


from porcelain to ivory to iron

by orphan_account



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Angst, But not exactly, Comics references, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Humor, I Don't Even Know, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Post-Canon, because i love those, jealous!Kara, kind of an iron man au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-07-23 11:40:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20007703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: It was probably a bit petty.But, then again, who wouldn’t create a superhero identity to hide from your best friend just to get back at said best friend for keeping their superhero identity from you?Okay, maybe it was a lot petty (not that she’d admit it), but Lena, as different as she was from the rest of her family, was still a Luthor, and the Luthors were their own special brand of extra. If that meant putting on a suit made of a nickel-titanium alloy that the media insisted on calling iron, of all things, so be it.





	from porcelain to ivory to iron

**Author's Note:**

> so, this is my first time with fanfic and I won't lie, I don't know what I'm doing  
> still, I hope someone likes it, so, here it is...

It hurt.

Knowing that her best friend, the person she loved, respected and trusted the most in her life, was lying to her all this time hurt so much that she couldn’t describe it, but she was nothing if not used to betrayal. Even if Lena didn’t expect it from Kara, sweet, too-good-for-the-world Kara Danvers, it was nothing she hadn’t been through before.

Just one more scar to the ever-growing collection she held in her heart.

Lena took another sip of her whiskey and gazed upon the city. Her vision was blurred, and, for a moment, the green-eyed woman blamed it on the alcohol, only to feel the warm humidity of tears running down her cheeks. The CEO hurried to clean them up with her free hand.

She needed a plan, a course of action. Her inebriation was far from helpful, but she didn’t plan on sobering up any time soon. Might as well consider her options anyway.

For one, she’d have to revoke Kara’s access to L-Corp at some point, but not yet. She still wasn’t ready to have that particular conversation, and, until she was, Lena would have to act like nothing had changed, like she wasn’t breaking on the inside and wanted nothing to do with her so-called best friend anymore.

Then, there was CatCo. She’d have to sell it. There was no way in hell for her to continue working with Kara, but, even if she was burning with anger, Lena couldn’t force herself to simply fire the reporter in order to keep the company. It was the most lucrative option, but she didn’t have it in her.

“ _Too soft-hearted._ ” A voice that sounded suspiciously like Lex’s whispered in her mind.

Who would she sell the media empire to, then?

One more glass of whiskey later, she still had no answer to that question. Her mind was fuzzy, and standing, even if she was leaning against the glass wall of her office, was becoming a chore. Getting that drunk probably wasn’t her brightest idea, but Lena was far from caring at that point.

So, she had to blacklist Kara and all the Superfriends (she had to blink back new tears at the mere thought of the name) from L-Corp, sell CatCo, and then what? What was left for the raven-haired woman to do? What was left of _her_ , at all?

Maybe it was the anger talking, but that couldn’t be everything. She couldn’t wallow in self-pity ( _not just that_ , anyway) and wait for the hurt to go away someday.

She needed a project, something to get back at Supergirl for breaking her heart all over again right after helping her pick-up the pieces.

Green eyes landed on the empty glass she held in her right hand. It wouldn’t do, not at all. Alcohol helped her creativity, or so she told herself, and Lena needed as much as she could gather to think of something to hurt the Girl of Steel the same way Kara had hurt her.

With newfound motivation, the CEO stumbled back into her office, eyes locked on the half-empty bottle of whiskey on her desk.

It would be a _very_ long night.

\- SG -

Lena’s head was pounding when she woke up in the morning. Her entire body hurt when she tried to stretch, and the familiar ache was enough to inform the raven-haired woman of her whereabouts before she even forced her eyes open, only to close them again due to the light in the room.

She was leaning against a cool metal table, which explained why her back and neck felt like they were splitting open. Her arms were numb after resting her head on them for the entire night, and her legs were stiff, just like the rest of her body. In addition, her throat was as dry as a desert, and her parched lips tasted like blood and alcohol.

Definitely not the best way to wake up.

Lena groaned and used the cold surface to push herself to an upright position, her hand closing unconsciously around a small piece of paper. The CEO stared at the note for a short second before unfolding it and instantly recognized her own drunken handwriting.

**~~Too~~ ** **~~Two~~ To-do list**

**1\. cancel ~~the fucking traitor’~~ ~~the lying b~~ Kara’s access to my ~~ofice~~ office**  
**2\. cancel ~~the~~ ~~superliars’~~ ~~super~~ everyone’s access to ~~mine~~ my office**  
**3\. find someone to sell ~~KatC~~ CatCo ~~two~~ to**  
**4\. sell ~~CatK~~ CatCo**  
**~~5\. talk to Kara~~ **  
**5. ~~built~~ build a ~~super~~ suit**  
**6\. become a ~~super~~ hero**  
**7. ~~hyde~~ hide it from ~~the trait~~ Kara**  
**8\. get ~~avenge~~ revenge**  
**9\. move ~~beck~~ back ~~too~~ to ireland**

It looked like drunk Lena had spent plenty of time thinking about what to do and wrote down all of it for her to see when she was sober, not that she’d been able to write properly, for the looks of it.

It was a very… (mad) creative plan, one that she had just enough resources to make a reality, and had started to do so, if the messy table in front of her was an indication. Numerous wires stretched back and forth, connecting incomplete metal parts that she couldn’t remember building. The empty bottle of whiskey she had brought from the office laid on a large sheet of paper stained with alcohol, in which a senseless, poorly designed drawing surrounded by a multitude of mathematical equations made in an unintelligible handwriting displayed what looked like the initial idea of a technological armor.

Then, she finally noticed, through all the pain and numbness, that her left hand was wrapped in a metal glove. It looked slightly like the one she had used to fight Mercy, but far less bulky. A series of cables connected it to the portable generator she kept in the lab, and, in the palm of the gauntlet, a small circle of bright white energy shone.

Because, of course, drunk Lena Luthor couldn’t write properly to save her life, but could assemble a high-tech, laser-shooting glove.

It didn’t even surprise her anymore.

Slowly, the scientist slid the gauntlet out her hand. Whatever she had built while drunk was bound to be unsafe, and she was still in no condition to test it, anyway.

She tried stretching again, her joints cracking painfully as she did it, before reaching for her phone. Unsurprisingly, there were no missed calls or unread messages, as there was no signal at L-Corp’s underground level, and (she thanked every divine entity she knew about but didn’t really believe in) no sign of drunk texting or calling from her.

One less problem to deal with, at least.

A few more taps on her phone screen and she stared at the meticulous schedule Jess had prepared for her, which dictated how her day would go, despite the hangover that refused to leave her. And the schedule said that her first meeting of the day, at eight o'clock sharp, would be with...

Maxwell Lord.

Lena buried her face in her hands. “Fuck my life.”

It was hard enough to tolerate the man on a good day. Putting up with the condescending tone that was ingrained in his irritating voice while her head ached like Supergirl herself stomped on it with all her strength was everything she didn’t need at the moment. Still, she couldn’t simply postpone the meeting any more than she already did.

Really, fuck her life.

The CEO then rubbed her eyes again, her head still pounding, and pushed herself out of the chair. She had no time to lose if she wanted to look the least bit presentable when she was forced to face Maxwell.

One last time, she took a look at the table in front of her in all its messy glory. It wasn’t even such a terrible idea, even if she was doing it for less than noble reasons. The green-eyed woman would be able to do some good and help the city, with the added bonus of getting back at Kara for making a fool out of her without physically hurting the blonde-haired reporter in the process.

It seemed like a win-win situation.

A yawn forced its way through her mouth, and she rubbed her tired eyes. “I must be going mad.”

It looked like losing their mind was typical Luthor behavior, after all, even if the madness wasn’t necessarily connected to a deep xenophobia. What else could explain the thought of simple human putting on a suit in order to fight crime?

That kind of behavior wasn’t unheard of, of course. James was a living example of it, though quite possibly not the best to use.

(Gotham’s so-called Bat-Family seemed to be running around fighting the city’s murderous clown for a few years now. It was always a sore topic to discuss with Bruce and even Selina seemed less than thrilled about it.)

Still, it should be considered a sign of a (very, _very_ ) poor sense of self-preservation, or lack thereof (not that Lena was known for having much of it, of course).

The idea had some merit, though it needed further scrutiny. Still, it would have to wait.

It was a business day, and she had a meeting with Maxwell _fucking_ Lord, which meant she had a lot to do before she could drive herself insane with thoughts about the suit she had started to build. For now, the CEO would have to concentrate on the effort of not killing herself or the obnoxious man during their meeting. It was the best she could hope for.

Finally, Lena turned her back on the messy table and staggered toward the exit of the lab.

\- SG -

The hangover wasn’t completely over when Lena arrived at her penthouse, though she was pretty sure her bloodstream consisted almost entirely of painkillers and coffee by then. Her muscles still felt sore, and she never felt so happy to kick the stilettos off her feet after a long day of work.

Almost immediately after the door slammed shut behind the raven-haired woman, the sound of a short vibration came from inside her purse. She pulled out her cellphone and unlocked it, only to see a message from the last person she wanted to talk to at the moment, when the hangover was still a strong reminder of how much she had drunk the night before, and why.

**come over?**

The two words stared at her in disdain, mocking her like the woman who had written them probably did behind the Luthor’s back. For a second, Lena wondered if Kara had heard her come home, if that knowledge made the blonde-haired reporter assume that her invitation would be accepted. In other times, maybe it would be, but not that night, not anymore.

Lena’s fingers moved before she could control them, typing a single, two-lettered word.

**No.**

Too short, too cold. It wouldn't do, not yet. She deleted the message and tried again.

**I can’t. I’m busy.**

It was still far too dispassionate considering their interactions, so she added another text soon after sending the first one.

**Sorry.**

The answer came a mere second later.

**:(**

**its ok**

A long string of crying emojis followed, and, before the reveal, Lena would probably smile at her best friend's adorableness, something she couldn’t bring herself to do at the moment.

**Raincheck?**

The scientist had no intention of following through with the rescheduling proposal, but she had to keep up appearances, at least for now, and do what was expected of her. With some luck, everything would be over soon, so the raven-haired CEO wouldn’t have to feel her heart break into small pieces all over again while staring at the long chain of texts on her phone screen.

Kara’s reply came far too soon, three simultaneous messages that the Luthor didn’t really want to read.

**YES!**

**dont stay up 2 late**

**and dont forget 2 eat!!!!!**

_Like you care_ , she had to refrain herself from typing. Instead, she decided for a more in-character answer.

**Sure.**

**Good night, Kara.**

Lena was just about to lock the phone without any further glance at the conversation when Kara's last reply came.

**night!!!**

Below the single word, there was another message. Just a single emoji: a big, red heart that pulsed continuously, staring at her like a cruel joke. The dark-haired woman felt her eyes sting just before shutting them to contain the gathering tears and threw her phone on the couch.

_Deep breaths, Lena. Deep breaths._

She had already cried enough for a lifetime during the last days, but the sob the escaped her throat opened a door for the tears that rolled copiously down her cheeks. Lena put a hand to her mouth in a futile attempt to stifle the crying and leaned against the door, her legs suddenly trembling.

_Deep breaths._

She drew a breath of air into her lungs and held it for a few seconds before releasing it. Then, she repeated the process over and over until the crying subsided. Her chest burned, a sensation more than familiar to the Luthor, and her eyes still stung, though they no longer shed any tears.

When she finally forced them open once more, her blueish-green eyes landed on a picture frame on the other side of the room, one she had brought home not that long ago, as new an addition to the penthouse as it had been to her office, although it was already missing from the latter. In it, she smiled like the fool she had been while the Danvers sisters hugged her.

The image tore a new wound in her already broken heart.

Without hesitation, the CEO walked toward the photograph, which had been placed on the coffee table in the spacious living room, and picked it up. Then, she walked toward the kitchen trash can, opening it.

For what felt like a long time, Lena remained in the same position, fingers tight around the picture frame. She stared at her own hand for a moment before closing her tear-filled eyes.

“I’m such an idiot.”

Good actresses, those Danvers sisters. She had to give it to them. They managed to make her feel like she mattered, like she was more than her last name, more than just a Luthor. Lena should’ve known that it was far too good to be true, that she’d never be more than Lex Luthor’s baby sister in their eyes. After all, why would a Super and a federal agent befriend the sister of Earth’s most notorious alien hater if not to keep tabs on her?

That knowledge didn’t make letting go of the photo, of the memory it held, any easier. So, Lena took the picture out of the frame and finally let the latter fall toward the still open trash can. Then, she walked toward one of the cabinets and grabbed a bottle of wine, opening it with the corkscrew she took from a nearby drawer.

Silent, Lena moved out of the kitchen and toward her bedroom. She didn't care to turn on a single light, and the darkness act as a solemn companion, one who welcomed her like an old friend. The CEO closed the door behind her before taking a long gulp of wine (some distant part of her brain knew that drinking again so soon would be a terrible idea, but she couldn’t bring herself to care).

Her bare feet made no noise against the floor as she walked toward the overly large closet, almost the size of her own room. Inside of it, she paid no fraction of her attention to the expensive clothes decorating every corner, and, instead, moved to the back of the room, where, behind another pile of designer clothes, there was a box, near which she sat.

The most noticeable item inside the box was an old teddy bear, worn and dusty, that was her only memory of a life before the Luthors. There was also the expensive chess set with which she played with Lex when they were younger, a few more memorable things that she held close to her heart and, finally, the item she had been looking for: a photo album.

At first glance, there was no relation between the few pictures reunited there. On the first page, a woman with black hair and eyes blueish-green eyes had a sweet smile on her face, and in her arms a small child no older than two years old looked equally happy.

The next page held a newspaper clipping, which had a black-and-white image of Lionel Luthor's elegant yet serious figure, one of the man’s hands on the shoulder of a little girl, who held a trophy too big for her.

Lena’s eyes watered a bit more and she took a new sip of wine. “You fooled me too, didn’t you?”

But there was no sense in dwelling on those memories any more than she already had, so she once again turned the page, only to find a picture she hadn’t expected, though she had put it there many years ago. The raven-haired woman took it out of the album and caressed it with her thumb.

The photograph was old, the edges of it worn and wrinkled with age. In it, four girls were smiling brightly while holding each other in a clumsy group hug, like something straight out of one of the cheesy coming-of-age movies Kara had forced the CEO to watch.

Lena recognized herself first, the smallest of the foursome. The youngest by far, she seemed a bit out of place in a picture with the three other girls, but was smiling all the same, blueish-green eyes sparkling with joy. Her past-self, who was wearing a shirt a bit too big for her and didn’t seem to care about the rebel strands of hair on her face, looked like someone else entirely, arm tight around Samantha Arias’ waist.

Mid-laughter, Sam had an arm around photo-Lena’s shoulders. She looked so young, careless in a way she hadn’t been able to be since giving birth. Her other arm was pushing away a smirking Helena Wayne, who looked just a little too much like Selina Kyle while doing it even if her eyes were all Bruce Wayne, while the heiress tried to tickle her. On Lena’s other side, messing with the Luthor’s hair and holding her free hand, Andrea Rojas stood, her grin just as mischievous as Helena’s while she stared at the trio beside her. The CEO recognized the Wayne Mansion behind them, a familiar scenario she hadn’t seen in a long time.

Those three girls were probably the fondest memories she had of her childhood and teenage years, small specks of light among an ocean of darkness. It felt like a life-time since she last saw any of them, with the exception of Sam, and the longing that held her heart in a steel grip was almost too much for her to bear.

Those were perhaps the only people she had never faced any kind of judgement from, and she just missed them _so much_.

A lone tear slid down Lena's cheek. Sam had spent so little time in National City and was too far away at the moment, and even though the Arias had told her that she thought of coming back, it wasn’t enough for the Luthor. The last time she saw them, Helena was a law student at Harvard, while Andrea studied journalism at NYU.

An idea flashed in her mind, so sudden it almost blew the CEO away.

Lena glanced once more at the picture in her hand, at the smirking girl who had been a comforting presence in her youth. The same girl who had always expressed an interest in journalism and who used to be editor-in-chief of the boarding school’s newspaper and who, Lena had heard, Cat Grant herself had been interested in bringing to CatCo.

Perhaps it was just wishful thinking, an excuse to see an old friend again. But it was also a suitable option, far better than any she had previously thought.

The CEO once again turned the bottle of wine over, taking a long drink, and forced herself to get up before she could give up on her most recent idea. Then, she hurried back to the living room, where she had left her phone. The raven-haired woman unlocked it and directed the screen to the device’s contact list, only to see, in between the very first names, one she hadn’t thought about in years.

**Andy R.**

Minutes passed as she stood with her thumb trembling just above the name. She had not talked to Andrea since Lex had gone off the rails, not seen her for even longer, and she had no idea of what to expect. Still, it was the best option she had, so the CEO took a deep breath, pressing her finger to the screen before taking the phone to her ear.

It ringed twice before the call was accepted, but no one spoke from the other side of the line. Lena swallowed, unsure, before forcing herself to break the heavy silence.

“Andrea.” The name trembled on her tongue as she spoke it instead of the nickname. The scientist just wasn’t sure if she was still allowed to use it after so long.

One heartbeat later, not enough time for the raven-haired CEO to freak out and ask herself if her (former?) friend had changed her number, an answer came.

“ _Oh, so you_ do _remember me. I’m honored._ ” The voice sounded just like she remembered it, filled with fondness and slightly mischievous. “ _Tell me, Lena, how did such a busy CEO make time to call little old me?_ ” She joked, the same way she used to do when they were younger, when everything was simpler, even if not ideal.

Lena released a breath she had no idea she was holding.

“Enough with the false modesty.” She answered, a tiny smile tracing her lips. “It doesn’t suit you, Ms. Rojas.”

“ _Just thought I’d give it a try._ ” Lena pictured the other woman shrugging as she spoke. “ _So, how can I be of service? It’s been a while since…_ ” She trailed off, and the green-eyed CEO heard her clear her throat before speaking once again. “ _I assume this is something important, then._ ”

It was Lena’s turn to clear her throat, uncomfortable. “You assume correctly.” She paused, unsure of what to say, for a moment before speaking once again. “I’m sorry, Andy. I don’t mean to make you feel used.”

The answer came not a single second later. “ _I don’t. Not in the slightest._ ” Andy assured her. “ _It’s good to hear from you again, I promise. So, how can I help you, Lee?_ ”

The nickname was old and a little ridiculous, considering that her name was so short by itself, and no one had used since Andrea. It brought an unconscious smile to Lena’s lips, something that, just a few minutes ago, seemed like such a distant possibility. But the Luthor said nothing about it.

She still had something important to do, after all.

“Are you still interested in journalism?” The scientist could almost see Andrea blinking in surprise at the sudden question and smirked at the thought.

The older woman replied shortly after. “ _Of course._ ” She said. “ _You bought CatCo, I heard. Is that what this is about? You want to offer me a job? Because I’m afraid you can’t afford me, Ms. Luthor._ ” The mirth in her voice was unmistakable and Lena found herself laughing, despite everything.

“Not exactly.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to everyone who read it, really  
> this chapter was kinda heavy, but the following will me more light-hearted, I promise. I like angst, of course, but it's not the main goal of this fanfic, as you can probably see from the summary  
> english isn't my first language, so, if you see any mistakes, please tell me  
> and also tell me if this sucks. but be gentle about it, I think? please?


End file.
